Flux
by NeapolitanGirl
Summary: When what is and what might have been begin to collide, two universes are bleeding through the fault lines... Slightly epic, mysterious, sporadically romantic reunion with a twist the size of Calcutta. Featuring... well, everyone! Chiswick's burning...
1. Chapter 1

_¡Hola! ¿Qué tál?_

_Now that's sorted, I just to say (excuses, excuses!) I have only seen the Sarah Jane Adventures twice, because it wasn't very good. That, and I have enough of a life that I don't go around watching children's TV all the time (cough). If some people out there __**do**__ watch it, then you'll get why I mentioned it (and hopefully won't kill me for insulting you). Not that Sarah Jane is in this story, mind. I just... stole some plot. And warped it. To fit my story._

_It also appears that I've been watching far too much Lost. That might worsen the surrealism situation a bit. It's gonna be weird. And it's gonna be LINEAR! Without jumpy bits! SURPRISE. Maybe my __**avoidance**__ of time jumps is also Lost related... As might my liberal usage of... __**Deus Ex Machina.**__ Gotta love a plot device._

_I think I'm a geek. And have I mentioned how much I love Donna? She's so awesome to write. Catherine Tate ftw. __**SHUT UP AUTHOR'S NOTE!**_

_**Rating:**__ T (Donna may or may not swear)_

_**Spoilers: **__Oh, all the usuals... This is kind of AU. Ignore what's happened in series 4, pretty much. Flow with it. Roll with it._

_**Procrastination:**__ Always._

_**Disclaimers:**__ are for people who'll accept the answer "no"._

--

**Chapter One: **_**Termagant! - Run!**_

--

"Cad."

"Harpy."

"Miscreant!"

"Harridan!"

"Reprobate!"

"Termagant!"

There's a pause.

"What?"

The Doctor smirks, full of childish self-regard. That'll teach her, she'll be wondering what a termagant is for days before she'll ask him.

"You, Donna Noble, are the biggest _termagant_ I've ever seen."

Her facial expression falters into dangerously vulnerable territory. He'd feel a little bit guilty if she hadn't just called him a cad, a miscreant and a reprobate (though he doubts she actually knows what the last one means). And before that, heartlessly stolen several alien artefacts from a truly very lovely Roman psychic. She really is a nightmare to live with.

There's a small silence where they glare at each other testily, daring each other to make the next move, or not to. Weighing up whether or not it's worth it to be the bigger person. They both fidget, not breaking eye-contact as the tardis rumbles disapprovingly under their feet. Donna stamps at the shuddering, still full of petulant rage.

"Yeah, whatever. Next time you have something to say, say it to someone who cares, alright Martian boy?"

Wrapping her coat around her, she storms angrily from the tardis, red hair a fiery flurry about her broad shoulders as she she slams the door shut with a thud. He feels the ship wince and almost winces with her, turning to the central column and laying a hand on the console kindly. He didn't even get to call her a virago.

"I know, I know. We'll get back at her, don't you worry."

Turbines hiss menacingly at him and he grins. There's very little Donna can do in this situation. She's not going to leave him, because she's made it perfectly clear she isn't going back to her mum's until she's got something to show off about. And even if that weird Alien Rubix Cube thing _is_ from Roman times, he gets the impression that her mum would just tell her to shut up and not be in the slightest bit impressed.

No, Donna will be back alright. She'll pop down to the pub, then come back in a couple of hours when she's jolly enough to risk her reputation by saying sorry.

His back turned, the Doctor hears the door to the tardis open creakily and his smile widens evilly. _She didn't even bother going to the pub._

"Back to apologise?"

There's no reply, and he grins even more, still facing the console, staring at the screen in front of him, working out where to land in Ancient Rome so as to avoid himself and stay in walking distance of the clairvoyant's grotto.

He loves it when Donna wants to apologise and can't. It's always so endearing. He relents.

"Look, if you say sorry, I'll tell you what a termagant is."

There's still no reply, and he rolls his eyes, already entering in co-ordinates.

"Donna, you're really shooting yourself in the foot with this one. If you give me the relics, we can take them back to the psychic, and no-one will be any the wiser."

He's met once again with silence. He waits, hand resting on the lever that will send them spinning back through the vortex to whenever BC- she still has to eat her humble pie. He flicks round.

"But I'm not going until-"

The words die in his throat and he stops still, heart in his mouth, breath caught in shock and terror.

_Oh no._

--

_Termagant_. Probably not even a word. It would be just like him to make up a word just to sound impressive. Yeah, that'll be it. English isn't even his first language!

She stomps down the road, away from the police box, too angry to notice the cold or the darkness. He's dropped them off in the middle of Winter, _again_. She decided he hates the summer a while ago. They always seem to end up in the snow capped mountains of the Ood Sphere, or January in the Soviet Union, or somebody's fridge (she still hasn't quite forgiven him for that one). It's not fair that he can just get away with it because he has a lower body temperature than her. That shouldn't be the way these things work, Goddamn it! She's the guest, after all, and she was taught that the guest always gets what they want, even _if_ they want to go to a pre-excavated diamond mine in primeval Sierra Leone.

Fingering the stolen wooden box in her pocket, Donna turns back and glares at the tardis, who's _obviously_ going to be on his side, because she always is, even when Donna's right and the Doctor's being a total... _plonker_.

She could swear sometimes that that ship fancies him or something. It's the only logical explanation as to why it would be so bloody devoted to him, especially when she's seen him smashing the controls with a hammer.

Well, you know, either that or because they're both the _last_ _remaining_ _precious vestiges_ of Galli-whatsit. One of the two.

Stubbornly pushing all thoughts of the Doctor away, Donna looks up the road, miraculously knowing exactly where she is. She's not that far from home, actually, or her local. So she can just go and have a drink, visit Granddad, wait 'till morning with him and then sell off the Roman thing to that Torchwood place. They'll take any old rubbish nowadays. And when she goes back to the tardis the Doctor'll be so happy she's back that he'll just forget that she nicked the box from that old fraud of a psychic (Something on her back? _Honestly_...).

It's a neat enough theory, anyway.

Pleased with herself, she starts strutting up the road, coat still drawn around herself like a fur mantle. Would it be childish to stick a finger up at the tardis? Or to poke out her tongue? She decides not to care.

Nose turned up, she looks around, but there's nothing there.

_What?_

She narrows her eyes, sure she didn't hear the sound of the dematerialising police box. He must have hidden it somewhere, _manually_, to scare her. And he must have done it really, _really_ fast. And completely silently.

She'd be impressed if it wasn't so worried.

"Doctor?"

An owl hoots ironically in response and flutters from a tree, but no Time Lord emerges. She pulls her coat against her that much tighter.

"Doctor, it's not funny, there's nothing funny-"

But the thought's cut off, suddenly, when someone's garden explodes.

There's a loud bang and a flash of light at the end of a driveway, and Donna nearly cries out in fear, swallowing the noise in place of a little hum of shock. already pounding heart beating loud enough in her ears that she's sure a passing stranger could hear the noise from inside her chest.

_Run. Run away, turn back, head in the complete opposite direction. Seriously, anything but have a look. Just run._

_**As if.**_

Venturing forwards, Donna stares fearfully through the smoke, praying it's just the Doctor playing practical joke.

"Hello?"

She hears a noise like cold water hitting a hot pan, and her eyes widen.

"Excuse me? Are you alright?"

There's a pause, and then a figure, a _feminine_ figure, she notes bemusedly, comes tumbling through the smoke, spluttering and... _laughing_?

"Hello?" Donna falters, waving her hands about to try and clear the smoke as the figure comes closer, still chuckling in the polluted air. "You okay?"

The laugh turns to a cough, and hands grapple at a half blind Donna, barely able to see through the smoke. _Oh God._

"Look, are you alright, I can't-"

She's interrupted by a hacking cough and a rambling splutter of wheezy words.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm..."

A blonde girl bursts through the slowly settling ashes, stumbling and giggling and luckily not _remotely_ scary. Her clothes are singed, like she's just escaped from an overzealous chef who attempted to turn her into some kind of human brulée, and she's carrying what appears like a fire extinguisher, but more... sci-fi. She looks up at Donna and grins, and the older woman isn't actually sure she's ever seen anyone look quite this happy.

Well, good on her, even if this is a bit weird.

The girl looks Donna in the eye, and it's only then that she notices that her temple's bleeding. She lifts a hand up to her hairline, feeling the slow, syrupy droplet snaking down the side of her face. She wipes it hastily with the back of her hand, then goes back to smiling.

"I'm fine, I was... I was there, and now I'm here."

Donna grins uncertainly, purely because it's infectious. Something in her automatically likes this stranger with a fire extinguisher. Or, well, this _not quite_ stranger. Possibly.

"Right then. Is that surprising?"

The girl's smile widens even more, if that's possible, and she shrugs knowingly, a laugh in her voice.

"It's impossible."

Donna's not quite sure what to ask. "And that's a good thing?"

The girl just grins, and Donna raises her eyebrows in return, waiting for the girl to elaborate, when abruptly she hears a loud yelp and the fast approaching sound of footsteps. She whips round, still full of nervous energy, just in time to see the shadowy figure of a hurried man tear down the road, running as fast as his legs will carry him. They both stare as he rips past, his breathing fractured in the night air, terrified. Something's wrong.

And the Doctor is curiously absent. Which she's still worried about, FYI.

Donna turns back to the girl, suspicious, adding the pieces together. "What's going on?"

The smile she's greeted with is half way between smug and weary. Donna starts to lose her patience. It's probably just nerves.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Right?" Donna asks incredulously, knowing full well she'll believe almost anything nowadays. "I think you've probably found the only person- well, the only _human being-_ in this universe who'll quite literally believe whatever you say, so long as it's got aliens in it. Or time. Or something to do with space."

There's a pause while the smile fades, replaced with something else. Something Donna's definitely ready to question, even if she's not the one holding... an ice gun?

"So who are you? How did you get here? I've seen all sorts, so don't even bother lying."

There is nothing but their breathing in the darkness, coming out in little puffs of condensation, and... shouts? In the distance? Can she hear shouting?

They both look down the street towards Chiswick High Road. The lights have gone out, leaving only the ghostly glow of the moonlight and the faint glow of what might be a fire at the end of the road. _Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear._

Their gazes return to one another, and Donna wishes quite desperately that the Doctor was here. She's quite literally getting more and more worried by the second by this, and it appears the girl is almost as apprehensive. Donna repeats her question as they talk over each other.

"What's going on?"

"Where am I?"

Neither responds as the crystal clear sound of the smashing window rings out, and burglar alarms begin to wail.

They look at each either, both on edge. Both knowing what must be done. They talk over each other again, but luckily, they agree this time.

"Run!"

--

_Intrigued? I do know where I'm going with this, don't worry... Only 11 Chapters to go!_

_Review for me, won't you? Be a good... Well, lass, most likely. Or lad! I was never one for sexual discrimination..._


	2. Chapter 2

_Hello again! Lovely weather we've been having! What have you been..._

_No?_

_Oh, alright then. Chapter below. Glad you liked it, by the way._

_**Still disclaimed, as if it matters.**_

--

**Chapter Two: **_**You're Rose, aren't you? - Chiswick's Burning**_

--

"Run!"

They both catapult down the road, running towards the fire, in the same direction as the shouting. It's a strange choice, Donna just about has time to think, but she dismisses it as soon as it registers as a thought in her mind. She's been with the Doctor for the last three months. Of course she's heading towards the dangerous part of... Well, the area. Even if it is her hometown. Fire or no fire, Chiswick is still Chiswick. The danger feels minimal, even when there's shouting and windows smashing and girls with space age fire extinguishers and... Does that man running the other way have a flaming torch? That can't be good.

Still, the aforesaid girl has no excuse. Even if she did just... appear, with an ice gun. And seem utterly unfazed by it.

God, this is weird.

Seriously. Where do you even get a flaming torch?

And now she has a stitch. Which is just great, isn't it?

"Oi! Oi, stop!"

She slows to a stop, hunched over, hands resting on knees, taking a moment to catch her breath. After a moment, the girl backs up to her, and Donna just about manages to straighten enough to see her face, eyes squinting towards the end of the road as the shouts continue.

"Who... Who are you?"

The girl doesn't look down at her and doesn't answer the question, her eyes still screwed up in an effort to make out whatever's happening near the green. When she finally looks down at Donna, she seems almost defeated, and her voice seems deflated when she speaks. Perhaps it's because she's not smiling anymore.

"Do you know what's going on?"

Donna gives a small shake of her head, lungs still heaving. "I've not been around for a while, I've been travelling and I only got back five minutes ago."

They stand side by side, gazing at the ever increasing flames that appear to be threatening to engulf Donna's local. Which she takes rather personally, in actual fact.

"Did you not see anything on the way home? This place looks..." The girl trails off with a sigh, defeated. "Like nowhere I've ever been before." She looks at Donna, "Like Hell."

"Er, it's Chiswick, actually." Donna looks up at her. "Since when did Hell look like Chiswick on fire?"

The girl shrugs disappointedly, then glances sideways at her, a rueful look on her face.

"What did you mean about aliens? And time?"

Donna pauses. Ah, well. No harm. This is weird enough as it is. It's probably alright to throw the Doctor into the equation. This girl appears to be mad enough that she won't throw a total wobbly at the idea of... the Daleks and such. Though Donna's yet to meet a Dalek. Or even learn what they are, besides "_Great space dustbins, Donna, great big terrible space dustbins that want to kill everything that isn't their own bloody race"_! It's just a bit hard to live with the Doctor and not sense some kind of hostility toward the race called the _Daleks_.

"It's a bit complicated." She pauses, but the girl carries on staring at her, and the intensity is such that she feels urged to continue. "It's like... I've got this friend, right? And he's... a bit weird."

The girl is still, not interrupting, silently egging her on.

"He's um..." _Rip off the plaster, Donna. If she's as barmy as she looks it'll all be fine._ _She's mad, it's all going to be okay. _"Look, his name's the Doctor, and-"

She's cut off by a sudden hug that practically winds her, almost lifting her off the ground. The girl's ice gun presses against her thigh uncomfortably. She could think of about fifty jokes right now, but she doesn't think the girl would notice. Or care. _What the HELL is going on?_

"Alright, what now? He's not that great, I can tell you." The squeeze tightens painfully, and she can feel the girl giggling. "The bastard seems to have buggered off at the first sign of trouble, for one..."

The grip suddenly loosens, and the girl's arms drop, a look of something between horror and surprise ghosting her features. The smile's still there, though. It doesn't look like it will ever fade.

_Horror, surprise, and joy,_ Donna thinks, looking back at her. _Isn't it just like him to summon up that expression in total strangers?_

Well, perhaps not _total _strangers. Presumably.

"You know him, then." Bit confusing, but may as well run with it. "The Doctor's gone off somewhere and I can't find him. I left the tardis, and..." She makes a noise like a car speeding off on a race track. "Can't find him anywhere." There's another pause, where the girl's expression darkens. Donna stares at her. "Look, did you travel with him or something? 'Cause I swear..."

"You don't know me." The girl cuts her off sharply. "Trust me. He won't have mentioned me."

Synapses fire.

"What?"

Her expression becomes rueful. "He never mentions us."

More synapses fire, links are created, brainwaves... wave. Man _alive_, this is surreal.

"What's your name?"

There's haste and no small amount of fear in the girl's voice as she stares at Donna like she's looking at a long lost relative. Or something like that.

"It doesn't matter." Something down the road explodes. Something noisy. Donna jumps, but the girl doesn't flinch. "Is he... How is he?"

The question is so breathless Donna can't help but stare back at her. It's got to be, it has to be. Surely. Because this certainly sounds like love.

"You're Rose, aren't you?" It's a statement, not a question. A statement with a question mark at the end of it.

The girl- no, wait, _Rose_'s face is strange, like she's sad, but she's trying not to laugh. Like Donna's said something so unexpectedly, painfully, wonderfully, unexpectedly lovely she isn't sure how to react, what to do with herself.

"Has he mentioned me?"

Donna shrugs. "Well, yeah. Is that a surprise? He's pretty hung up on you, you know that? Still loves you, I reckon." A slow smile spreads across her face. "He's gonna be so happy to see you."

Once again, the thought's cut short as something else explodes, even louder this time, and a piece of rubble comes speeding towards them. Donna starts to run again, this time _away_ from the fire. Rose just stares at the space she's vacated, a half smile on her undeniably very pretty face. The Doctor's got good taste, she is fairly beautiful, even if she's barking.

"Oi, Rose! You coming or what?"

She finally looks up, face filled with excitement and happiness. Excellent.

They both know what Donna's going to say next.

"_Run._"

--

_I know, it's pretty short- probably the shortest of the twelve. And a bit weird. And hard to write. Sorry if you didn't like... Tell me why! Or perhaps you __**did**__ like it! _

_Push the button and let me know! Sigh of frustration as the Sugababes gets transplanted into her head for the rest of the day_


	3. Chapter 3

_I love the Beatles. I know it's irrelevant, it's just that I'm listening to them as I write this, and it feels like they should get some kind of mention._

_This chapter's just a tiny bit crack(!)y, so beware. You have been warned._

_Technically, the word __**disclaim**__ means to refuse to acknowledge something, so by disclaiming I'm just not acknowledging the fact that I own this programme. Which is bloody backwards, and a complete waste of time._

--

**Chapter Three: **_**Mrs Noble - Slitheen in Downing Street**_

--

It's only when they finally stop running, both utterly breathless, that Donna realises where she headed for. It's quite ironic, really. And sort of sweet, from an outsider's point of view. But not so much if you've actually met her mum.

She opens the gate and slowly ambles up the garden path, feeling for anything like a stroppy teenager coming home after a night out. Past curfew. She turns to Rose, who's standing at the end of the path, clutching the twisted metal gate, staring at the door.

"Right, this is my mum's house."

Rose looks at her blankly. "Okay."

"No, it's not. I've been away... God knows how long, months, years, by the looks of things, and I didn't phone. I just rang and told her I was leaving, and that was it-"

She's cut off once again as the door behind her is thrown ruggedly open and a loud, irritated voice rings out. She cringes.

"Where the Hell have you been, Donna Noble?" She turns, slowly, full of dread, met unappealingly by the seething face of her mother in hair rollers. "You leave this morning to go and see that Lance bloke, you don't tell me or your Dad or even your Grandad what time to expect you back, even with all what's been happening on the news..."

_Wait, what?_ "Lance?"

Her mother notes the shock on her face. "Oh, Donna, don't tell me he left you? Not another one?"

"I-"

"Don't even answer that, I don't want to know. Just get inside." Donna doesn't move, staring at the flustered woman, bewildered. She's too confused to even think about the implications of that last statement (which is a good thing, really).

"Mum, what's going on?"

There's a pause, where they listen to the shouting in the distance. Mrs Noble gives an involuntary shiver.

"That's the question, isn't it?" Her anger falters for a second, leaving her looking haunted in the darkened street, lit from behind by the dim lamps that line her hallway.

Donna just stands there, staring at her mum. It appears that the whole World's gone completely mad. And that she's gone... Back in time. And can't easily go forwards again. Oh God.

"Mum, what's the..."

"Who's that?" Mrs Noble gestures behind her daughter, and, interrupted, Donna turns to look at Rose, who's staring back down the road towards the shouting and the fire. A car flies down the street, horn beeping maniacally, headlights off, and she gapes at it.

"Erm, that's..." Donna looks back at her mum. "That's my friend Rose."

She looks up at her name, tearing her eyes from two doors down's lawnmower, which appears to be running on its own. "Sorry?"

Donna turns to her, not quite sure what to say. She shrugs, apologetically. "Er, Rose, this is my mum. Mum, this is... Rose."

There's a pause, where no one moves.

"You never mentioned her before."

"Right, yeah, I met her earlier. Through a friend. Don't look at me like that, Mum!"

"How am I supposed to look at you? Why's she here? Who is she? You can't just go galavanting off God knows where then bring back perfect strangers. Not in this day and age. It's not safe."

"Why's it not safe?" Rose interrupts, suddenly, looking intensely at Mrs Noble. "What's going on?"

She doesn't answer the question, and Donna feels the first prickles of apprehension. "Look, get inside, the pair of you."

Neither Donna nor Rose moves an inch, so Mrs Noble grabs her daughter's arm.

"Come inside, for God's sake! Before it's too late!"

Donna shakes free, bewildered. "Mum! What's going on? Too late for what?"

"Oh, Lord, what on Earth have you been doing today? Having electroshock therapy? Come inside and I'll put the kettle on. Just get in!"

Rose comes through the gate, and it's this, more than anything, that sparks Donna into action. The two women, much to Mrs Noble's relief, come inside, and she shuts the door behind them, then bristles into the kitchen, squeezing past them in the narrow hallway, muttering angrily under her breath. Rose stares after her, slightly unnerved.

Donna whispers to her urgently. "Sorry about her, she's always been a bit... dramatic."

"Right." There's a pause, but when Donna starts towards the kitchen she's pulled back by a firm grip.

"Sorry... It's Donna, right?" She nods. "I think there's something weird happening. Like... Doctor weird."

"Like time travel, paradox, planet of the Ood weird?"

"You met the Ood?"

"Saved them from enforced lobotomy."

"Right, okay." There's an even longer pause, where both struggle to know what to say, what to do. What the Doctor would do. "Do you know what day it is?"

Donna looks around, then reaches for the newspaper on the recycling pile. Her eyes widen. "It's erm... February 12th, 2006. And it's a Friday."

Rose swallows, digesting this. The Grandfather clock directly behind her chimes, and she jumps.

"And it just went eleven o'clock."

"Right, thank you." She smirks. "Thorough."

Donna's mum calls from the kitchen. "You two, d'you want milk and sugar? We've got semi-skimmed and full fat."

"Either, Mum, either will do."

"Rose?"

"Erm, either, Mrs... Erm... Either."

Donna hisses. "Mrs Noble. Sylvia."

"Either will do, Mrs Noble. Thanks!"

The two women stand in the hallway, listening to Donna's mum tutting and fussing in the kitchen, thinking.

"Could I see the paper?"

"What?" Donna looks up at Rose, who's eyeing her earnestly. "Right, yeah, here you go."

She hands the slightly ragged copy of the Evening Standard over, and they're silent as Rose thumbs through the dog eared pages in the half light. Donna watches the second hand tick round above Rose's head, counting down... Er, she's not sure what, exactly. She realises idly it's been about forty-five minutes since she left the Tardis.

Mrs Noble's voice calls from the kitchen, breaking her daughter from her daze.

"Do you want this tea or not?"

"Sorry, Mum. We're coming!"

Neither of them moves. Rose looks at her, narrowing her eyes.

"Donna, when do you come from?"

"What?"

"What time is your time? When did you start travelling with him? How long has it been?"

Donna furrows her eyebrows, thinking. "I left on... April fifth, I think."

"What year?"

"Erm... It was... two thousand and eight. Saturday, April fifth, two thousand and eight."

There's a short wait whilst Rose processes this, doing the maths, then she looks at Donna carefully. "And how long have you been travelling with the Doctor?"

It's easy to see that the question carries a lot of weight with this girl, Donna thinks, studying her. She's got a look on her face like she's talking to an employee, or someone she's interviewing- polite, restrained, only mildly interested. But she's pretty easy to see through, especially when you know the history. Or, if you're Donna, some of the history. Actually, thinking about it, it might be the future?

Mrs Noble's voice barks out from the kitchen waspishly. "Donna! Tea!"

Donna rolls her eyes, exasperated. "We're just _coming_, Mum!"

Rose gives her a small, amused smile, then nods encouragingly. "How long?"

It _is_ an important question, when she thinks about it, and not just because Rose wants to work out if they're all going to die because of some all powerful paradox. Truth be told, Donna's not actually completely sure how long she's been with the Doctor. Tardis days are different. You wear them differently, you don't track them like you track a working week. Not that she's had a working week, not in a long while. Not since Lance and the spider. It's felt like forever and the blink of an eye at the same time.

She's still being stared at, and her mum is still tutting.

"Probably about six weeks?"

Rose nods, and if Donna thought she knew her, she'd say there's triumph. But she doesn't, so she won't. There's nothing she can really tell her that will help, except perhaps how the Doctor feels. She softens.

"You know he still completely adores-"

Rose breaks her off, interrupting. "I think we should get that tea before your mum explodes, alright, Donna?"

She's glaring at her now, which is really very unfair. It's not like she was...

"Donna! _Tea_!"

"_Alright!_"

Donna raises her eyebrows and they traipse into the kitchen where Mrs Noble is waiting, two mugs of steaming hot tea on the table.

"They'll be cold now."

"Yes, Mum."

She sits down, not touching the tea, staring into space. Rose follows her, a little awkwardly, and picks up her mug.

"Mrs Noble?"

"Yes?"

"The, er... The people in the streets." She shivers, and puts the mug back down, as if it's safer there. "What's going on?"

Donna braces herself. "Now you've done it."

"'_What's going on_?'" Mrs Noble's voice is like thunder. "I was joking about that shock therapy, but I shouldn't have been, should I?"

Rose looks at Donna, who's making a face like she's sucking a lemon, back turned to her mother.

"You come in, eleven at night, gone all day, wearing different clothes to the ones you went out in, and bring in some girl who's pretending not to know what's going on! Into my house!" Donna's eyes scrunch shut. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were on drugs, Donna Noble!"

"Mum!"

"Oh, don't give me any of that. She's carrying a gun about. You'd only take a gun out with you if you knew what was going on." She looks as if she's shocked at herself. "It's _conscientious_ if you know where to get one."

Donna swallows, having wondered herself, but not actually asked. There hasn't really been the time.

"Alright, Mum. But _I_ still don't know."

"You were talking about it this morning! With me! And your Granddad! At breakfast! You were saying that-" There's an abrupt knock on the door, and Mrs Noble jumps, almost fearfully. "Who can that be at this time of night?" She narrows her eyes at her daughter. "You aren't in trouble with the police, are you?"

"What? I..." She looks at the other woman desperately, searching for a life raft. "Rose?"

Rose swallows. "Er, no. I don't think so."

"Then who's at the door? No one should be stupid enough to go out at night..."

The door bell rings again, this time accompanied by a feisty knock. No-one moves until Donna heaves herself out of her chair and through the kitchen door, grumbling.

"Don't trouble yourself, I'll get it..." She storms along the darkened hallway to the front door, calling back testily. "I don't know what any of the fuss is, anyway..."

And when she swings the door open, wondering what the Hell could happen next, she is met, rather surprisingly, by herself. Literally, herself. Donna Louise Noble is standing on the doorstep, rooting through her handbag. She looks up.

"Sorry Mum, forgot my keys and..." The doppelgänger freezes, taken aback. Taken very aback. "Oh my God."

The Donna in the house swears terribly as the one on the front porch screams for Sylvia. "Mum!"

"Donna?" she calls back, questioningly, and 2008's Donna panics.

"No, it's nothing, it's no-one..."

She's interrupted by the other version of herself, who's _shrieking_. "Mum! Granddad!"

Donna mark one flies out into the garden, pulling the door closed behind her to block off the noise. "Shut up, will you?" she hisses, angrily, and the other Donna (the younger Donna, she thinks, bitterly) gawks.

"Oh my God! Don't you tell me to shut up! You shut up!" They both pause, twin brains working out the confusing meaning of that sentence. Who exactly _you_ is, when they're shouting at each other. Donna mark two scowls. "Shut up!"

The door opens again, and Rose emerges to look at the (slightly) younger redhead questioningly. "Donna, are you..." She glances to her left and sees the second woman, then jumps, startled, very narrowly stopping herself from eliciting a screamy sort of gasp. "Oh my _God_."

Donna the younger notices Rose's gun and begins to back away slowly, down the garden path, only stopping when she unseeingly hits the gate, seemingly immobile. "Who's she? Who are you both? This is..." She points at them, accusingly, brain clearly working at double speed, adding two and two and getting 912. "You're aliens! You're both aliens!" Neither of the two women staring at her answers, not sure how. She's practically right, after all. It appears that two and two do equal something slightly in excess of four today. "What the Hell is going on?!"

Mrs Noble's voice calls out from the inside of the house. "What are you-"

Donna pulls the door shut once more, calling out desperately in the hope of keeping her mum from discovering the situation. "It's nothing, Mum! We're fine!" She glares at her look-alike, then turns to the blonde woman, slightly hysterical. "Rose, what do I do? What's going on?"

She's met with equal fear. "I don't know! I think..." Rose trails off, almost thoughtfully, dampening her concern. She takes a deep breath. "Donna, I think we've gone back in time."

"_What!?_"

2008's Donna nods and glares at her bemused duplicate. "Yeah, I guessed that much. Paper saying two thousand and six, and all that."

Rose purses her lips, thinking hard. "But it wasn't like this, was it? Chiswick wasn't Hell." She smirks. "I think I'd have remembered something like that."

"Or you're a clone, aren't you? Oh my God! Someone cloned me!"

Donna scowls. "Shut up, I don't smell. Can you be quiet for thirty seconds, please?"

Rose sits down heavily on the doorstep and stares at her feet, thinking. "We've gone back in time, and something's changed. Something different happened, like..." She looks up, quizzically. "What happened in February 2006?"

Donna doesn't speak, not really remembering much. She doesn't think that anything she could offer would be of much use. Rose is talking practically to herself, thinking out loud.

"I started travelling with the Doctor in 2005, and then I missed a year, and... Oh my God," Her eyes widen as a thought strikes her, and she looks up again, wildly. "The Slitheen!"

"What?"

Rose tries urgently to salvage the thoughts running through her head, to piece everything together. It's like she's putting together a jigsaw without the picture on the box to help her. "The Slitheen! In Downing Street! The Prime Minister!"

Donna twigs. "Oh my God, yeah! The Prime Minister died!"

The third woman cuts into the conversation angrily. "What? No he didn't!"

"Oh, what do you know?"

Rose shakes her head, staring at her. "No, no... Maybe that's what's changed." She looks up at the sky, thinking. "Donna?"

"Yeah?"

"No, other Donna." She speaks to the irate redhead gently, like she's talking to a child. "Did a spaceship crash into the Thames any time recently?"

She looks angry to even be asked such a stupid question. "Yeah, it did. And I bet it was yours. Clone." She glares at Donna, who hisses at her once again to keep quiet, but Rose shushes her.

"No, no, this is good. This means that we know where to start."

"We do?"

She nods emphatically. "Yup. We've got to go to Downing Street."

"Oh my God." The Other Donna appears to have given up on the raging, and just sighs defeatedly. "For aliens you aren't half thick, you know that? The building's collapsed." She raises her eyebrows incredulously as they look on, blank. "_Terrorists_. Or aliens!" Her eyes widen in righteous indignation, and her eyebrows disappear behind the fringe. "Oh my God, _you_ did it!"

Donna fights the impulse to hit her. She's beginning to understand why her Mum's so angry whenever she's around.

"Wait, that's right! The building... We dropped the bomb and survived by standing under a doorframe. Oh _yes_!" Rose picks up her gun and beams. "The Doctor will be there! He can help us!"

Donna grins, not because she understands, but because she knows she's supposed to be smiling right now, and she'll be damned if she won't be a good audience. "Alright then! Let's get going!" She turns to her twin as Rose throws open the garden gate. "Tell Mum not to wait up, won't you?"

She dashes after Rose, smiling as she hears the call after her: "She's not your mum!"

--

_Want to hear something funny? When you look up redhead in the thesaurus on my computer, it says "person", like it needs to remind you that ginger people are human. Which is, of course, utterly preposterous. I'll let you know that I have friends with red hair, and I don't hold it against them..._

_Any-the-noo, do me a favour and tell me what you thought when you thunk it. Also known as be a good kid and review, alright? Thanks (shakes hand and departs)._


	4. Chapter 4

_I just saw the trailer for the rest of the series and was like "you stole my imagery!"- Rose and Donna in a London street, at night, in danger, wondering wtf is going on. THIEVES! But (adopts blasé tone) they can have it, I don't care, because frankly, as soon as I stopped saying "you stole my imagery!" I started saying something along the lines of "Squeeee! Rose is coming baaaaack! Yaaaay!" so that made it all alright. Also there's the fact that I stole their characters and set-up and storyline in the first place, and I don't want to be a hypocrite..._

_This chapter is slightly less than canon (certain events in a certain spin-off go un-noticed, for the most part), but, erm... Shut up. Does it matter? Really? Think about Darfur, and the Chinese earthquake (and just the problems in China in general...) and suddenly, you feel guilty about caring whether or not the story makes sense. Don't you? __**Don't you?**_

_Ho-hum. __**Disclaim**__, disclaim, disclaim..._

--

**Chapter Four: **_**MP For Flydale North - Outside the Government**_

--

The seemingly impossible task of getting past governmental security is, they find, not impossible at all. Neither Rose nor Donna is especially surprised by this. They've met the Doctor, after all. It is, in fact, their having met the Doctor which explains the total lack of surprise at seeing Downing Street (and most especially number ten) as an anonymous pile of security guard-less rubble.

It looks, as it is, like the apocalypse. Blackened craters have made mountains and pits in the ground around the area, and Donna swallows back a scream when she sees a hand sticking out from under the wreckage, the body seemingly buried underneath a heap of fallen ceiling beams. Two men are trying desperately to lift the debris away to save the poor trapped man, but even from a reasonable distance, as Donna watches, she can see it's useless, and that he can't possibly be alive.

Pieces of office equipment are strewn haphazardly across the road- printers and computer chairs and filing cabinets, all resting on their sides, charred or twisted or otherwise broken, litter the scene. Men and women in a mixture of smart and torn suits are wandering the area on mobile phones, some sobbing, some fighting, some frantically trying to put out small fires that emerge from various pieces of electrical equipment and live wires left frayed by the bomb. It's like a piece of political modern art, especially when you see the receptionist, bluetooth earphone hanging perilously from his ear, standing on a collapsed pile of bricks, smoking a cigarette with his eyes closed, presumably trying to block the hell from his mind by blocking it from his sight.

Rose tries not to let any sympathy warm her, knowing that none of this is real, anyway. It hasn't happened- it didn't happen, even if it's here, right in front of her, like a building site without the builders, and with the uncomfortable smell of death floating ominously in the gloom. She fights the urge to close her own eyes, instead shouting out as loud as she can in the hope that the Doctor (past, present, future, any form of Doctor, really. She isn't fussy) will hear and come to help them figure this all out, be their salvation.

"Doctor! Doctor, are you-"

"Rose!"

She spins around, full of exhilarating hope, then can't stop her face from falling with disappointment as she sees a middle aged woman standing ten feet away from her with a look of shock and a handkerchief balled in her fist.

"Oh God. Harriet."

"You were dead! You died! You and the Doctor, you died!" She runs and hugs her close whilst Rose stands perfectly still, arms rigid. Harriet pulls back and studies her with wonder. "You got a haircut!" She glances down. "And you're carrying... a gun!" She looks at her closely, confused. "Rose?"

"Harriet Jones! Oh my God!"

Rose jerks out of her arms as Donna races up to them, seemingly awed.

"Erm..."

Rose sighs dramatically, realising she has to make introductions. "Donna, this is Harriet Jones, current MP for Flydale North. Harriet, meet Donna Noble."

Graciously, Harriet offers out a hand to be shaken, a perfect politician to the last- reserved, courteous, polite. Pretending she hasn't almost jumped out of her skin because she's been recognised by someone she hasn't met for probably the first time ever. Almost like she's a celebrity. Almost like she's a politician that _matters_.

"Pleased to meet you."

Donna accepts the hand and shakes it vigourously, smiling broadly. "Too right! I voted for you, you know!"

Harriet's eyes widen. "You... You live in Flydale?"

"Right, she does." It strikes Rose how complicated this could get, and how much she needs to get a move on. And that Donna doesn't seem the type to just let this go. "Sorry, ladies, but we don't really have time for this." She gestures over her shoulder to the bedlam behind them. "Harriet, what just happened in there?"

"But..."

"Yes, yes, I know, I was there." The older woman still looks lost for words. Rose sighs at the all too human reactions to scientific weirdness for the millionth time that day. The woman's just met the Slitheen and still can't be trusted to fathom the idea of a paradox. And as confident as she is with her knowledge of the chaos that ensues in the aftermath of such a phenomenon, she doesn't really feel like trying to explain right now. "Post traumatic stress disorder, alright? Can't remember a thing. What was going on?"

Harriet nods, accepting the story, if not believing it. "The Slitheen- The acting prime minister, he..." She trails off, renewed horror lighting her eyes as she remembers. "Good Lord, Rose, how are you alive? He said it landed right on top you! I was near an opening in the rubble, so I battled my way out, but you and the Doctor..." She looks as if her sanity is seesawing precariously over a cliff, like she's about to have a breakdown.

Rose grips her shoulders, noticing but not reacting to the little shiver Donna has given next to them.

"Harriet, what happened to Mr Green? Where is he?"

"He's... Um..."

Her thought processes appear to have gone out of the proverbial window, and she's mute. Rose shakes her gently as the disturbed Prime Minister-to-be stares over her shoulder, eyes wide, into the distance.

"Hattie, what are you..."

Donna taps her on the shoulder resolutely- "Rose."

"What? I-" A large man in a black suit waddles swiftly past them, dabbing his head with a yellowing handkerchief. "Oh."

A smart, brown-haired woman in her fifties is running after him, holding a Dictaphone, barking questions at him desperately.

"Mr Green, can you please tell us what's been going on here? What's happened to the Prime Minister?"

He carries on without topping, trying to get away from her. "I'm sorry, I can't talk to any members of the press right now, you'll have to excuse-"

Rose's heart leaps in recognition as the woman slams into her without apology. "Sarah Jane!"

The reporter turns to her distractedly, not a hint of recollection in her eyes. "Yes?"

"It's you! Here! I just..." Rose feels like her smile is going to fall off her face through over use. All the pieces are falling together, she's nearly home, all she needs now is-

Donna gives a small cough, and she's brought back to Earth with a steady thump. Shaking her head like a dog with water in its ears, she looks away, still grinning. "Nothing."

Sarah Jane looks confused, but too busy to care. "Quite." She looks around and sees the sweating acting Prime Minister, who's leaning against a half melted lamp post, looking fearfully like he's about to have a heart attack. She whips out the Dictaphone once more and shoves it in front of the politician's face. "Mr Green, can you please tell-"

Rose clears her throat, pointedly, just loud enough for Sarah Jane to look around. "Erm, you might not want to do that."

The journalist looks at her haughtily. "I think I know what I'm doing, thank you. The public has the right to know."

"No, really, you don't want to do that."

She sighs, exasperated. "Why ever not?"

"Because he's an alien!" Donna interjects, burstingly joining the conversation. Harriet, who's been staring desperately at Mr Green, twisting her handkerchief, flinches.

Sarah Jane stares at her disbelievingly, eyebrows disappearing behind her fringe. "I beg your pardon?"

Rose instantly chimes in, feeling introductions are needed. "Oh, right, sorry. Sarah Jane Smith, this is Donna Noble." Donna offers her hand to be shaken with a grin. "Donna Noble, this is-"

"Sarah Jane Smith, freelance journalist." She looks at Donna's hand, rather than taking it, as if it might be a trick. She glares at Rose. "And how, exactly, do you know my name?"

Rose answers wryly. "Like she said, the acting PM is an alien. How do you think I know your name?"

"There's no..." The older woman pauses distrustfully, then her hand moves slowly up to her mouth, shaking, a look of hope filling her eyes as they begin to glisten with tears. "Doctor?"

Rose snorts. "Ha! He'd kill you if he knew you said that! I'm a friend of his." She sticks out her free hand for the older woman to shake and sighs jovially, rather enjoying this little jaunt down memory lane. "Yeah, I know, the assistants get younger as he gets older, you've met the Loch Ness Monster and I killed the emperor of the Daleks, we're even."

Sarah Jane shakes the extended hand, nervously, and Rose realises that she's looking at her in probably the exact same way she was looking at Donna earlier. Like she's looking at the newer model. Jealous, but sort of... relieved he has someone, even if it can't be her.

"I don't quite know what to-"

"I think Rose has that effect on most people," Donna interposes again, moving closer to the two women, dragging an unspeaking, seemingly dumbstruck Harriet by the wrist. "Can I just say something, though?"

"What?"

"Duck!"

She roughly pushes the three women to the ground just in time to avoid being stampeded over by a burly man sprinting past in a long leather coat. Winded and shocked, Rose watches him pin the nearby acting Prime Minister to the remains of a nearby wall. He speaks gruffly, businesslike.

"Mr Green, we have reason to believe that you, Sir, are an impostor." He studies at the sweating man victoriously then grabs him violently by the upper arm and shoves him back against the piece of collapsed wall as he yelps. "I'm afraid your time in charge has come to an end."

The politician squirms difficultly, like a bullied child trying to escape their captor in the playground, shoved up against the back of the science block by the biggest boy in the year. His voice comes out in miserable wheezes, sounding vaguely asthmatic. "I, er... I rather think-"

Mr Leather Coat interrupts dramatically, silencing the man, just as a group of four weapon wielding men and women, dressed in conspicuously smart black, sprint to the scene, once more knocking over the confused gaggle of women who are only just beginning to come to their feet.

"Don't think. Just get ready to- No, wait..." He pauses, and lets go for a moment. Mr Green sags, relievedly, and he looks irritated for a second. "I forgot to say, this is Torchwood. Beyond the police, outside the government, yadda yadda yadda." He beams, dashingly, shoving him with a thud, pinning him again against the crumbling red brick. "Which gives me the authority to kill you."

He knees the sweating statesman in the groin, leaving him moaning, buckled, collapsing forward until he's kneeling, hunched over piteously, curling into a ball. The triumphant Torchwood operative pulls a pistol from a holster at his belt and walks back until he's at optimal shooting range, then clicks the safety off, his face serious.

Donna gives a little scream. "You can't just murder him!"

He looks at her, noticing for the first time the presence of anyone other than himself and the impostor. Gun still pointed at the (acting) acting Prime Minister, he smiles callously. "Can't I, ginger?"

"No! That's-"

"That's Torchwood."

Donna looks pleadingly at Rose for back up. "But it's..."

The blonde shakes her head sadly. "No, he's right, Donna. that is Torchwood." The leader gives Donna a triumphant look and nods respectfully at Rose, who scowls at him, practically spitting a retort. "Even if it is bloody stupid."

One of the team, a short, Japanese woman with glasses and an automatic, cuts in, gesturing at the girl angrily with her weapon, presumably wondering how Torchwood might have become public knowledge. "Sorry, but who are you, exactly?"

"Rose Tyler." She answers automatically, and no one reacts. She expands with a sigh, praying she doesn't sound smug, or worse, like she's been gifted with the horror of _nepotism_. "My father owns the little establishment you lot make a career out of."

"No he doesn't, don't be stupid. It belongs to the Queen."

Rose glares at the woman. "Not where I come from it doesn't. There is no Queen. And like you said, outside the government." No one moves. "And seeing as my dad isn't here, that makes me the highest authority in the room. Well, ex-room. Rubble." Everyone's staring at her, and she feels oddly like a child in show and tell, giving a speech. She coughs, signalling that she's finished, and bows her head. "Thank you."

Still no one speaks, guns still hovering in mid air, bewildered. Donna makes a face. "They still shouldn't kill him."

"No, they shouldn't," Rose agrees, giving the chief a curt shove. "Put the side arm away, skipper."

Mr Green looks up at her gratefully, still on the floor. "Thank you-"

She shushes him, purposely condescending. He did, most likely, kill her, after all. "Ah-buh-bup-bup-bup! Don't talk to me until I tell you to. I just need this sorted out before two universes explode. Or implode." She grins at the bemused squad leader, who's frowning at her resentfully, as if she's taken away his Christmas presents. "I was never too great at physics."

She feels a light tap on the shoulder and turns cheerfully to see Donna, flagged by Harriet and Sarah Jane, who have matching looks of petrified shock on their faces. Donna swallows, sounding strained. "Er, Rose?"

"Sorry, Donna, I'm trash talking the enemy right now, can it wait?"

Donna shakes her head. "Probably not, no."

"Are you sure?"

She nods evenly. "Pretty sure, yeah."

Rose sighs, resigned. "Well go on then, what is it?"

Donna gestures briefly over her shoulder, and she turns, then stops still, frozen. "Oh, my..."

--

_Cheap cliffy! Any guesses? You won't be right, of course, but please humour me. It's all kicking off... finally! Took me a while, but... well, yeah. All systems are go. For a very long time, Jack was in this chapter, and then I realised that that would make absolutely no sense whatsoever, and cut him out. That's why this took a million years to post. Yes, I know this chapter is kind of weird. It worked better when it was Jack-ish._

_Nonetheless, review, my pretties! Review! __**Review!**__ Please? Like, really, please. I'll be really grateful. A __**lot**__ of people read and alert and still don't, and it's __**mean**__ (sobs in a corner)..._


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